


Lighter

by nekotachis



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Rating will change, Romantic Comedy, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:49:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25528477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekotachis/pseuds/nekotachis
Summary: It was a joke, initially, a dumb gift his friends got him on his birthday several years ago. They thought it wasfunny, really - super-serious Felix with the slutty fireman calendar. Practically unbelievable. ‘Outrageous,’ they all laughed. It wasn’t even that funny, Felix thought. It’s just a fucking calendar, who even uses those anymore?orFelix really learns to appreciate the fire department
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 40
Kudos: 241





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [@14_7psi](https://twitter.com/14_7psia/status/1283701095026454528) on Twitter for the idea, and [@ginkobean](https://twitter.com/ginkobean) for the suggestions and support.
> 
> "Felix buys the local fire department pin-up charity calendar every year because he has a huge crush on some red headed firefighter who works there. (Luckily) he fucking sucks at cooking and almost burns his apartment. Guess who comes to answer his fire call". I felt like burning a house down wasn't as sexy (it's sure funny, though).
> 
> Thank you to [@elbell3618](https://twitter.com/elbell3618) and classicsnerduc for beta'ing
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/nekotachis)

The calendar arrived at the same time every year.

It was a joke, initially, a dumb gift his friends got him on his birthday several years ago. They thought it was _funny_ , really -- super-serious Felix with the slutty fireman calendar. Practically unbelievable. ‘Outrageous,’ they all laughed. It wasn’t even that funny, Felix thought. It’s just a fucking calendar, who even uses those anymore?

Reluctantly and with love, he hung it up on the refrigerator in his kitchen, under the group picture of his friends and him at the beach. Some mornings he'd zone out, leaning against the sink and eating his cereal, eyes wandering over the tight abs and fat tits of whatever man-of-the-month graced the glossy page. It was dumb, he reminded himself. These guys looked ridiculous, it was probably fake. There was _no way_ the fire department really sold this crap. 

And secretly, every year, another calendar _just happened_ to appear in his mailbox. Every year, he stared at the same guys, posing differently but ultimately looking the same as last year, in the early morning fog that comes with a 5am wake-up time.

It wasn't like Felix was obsessed with the fire department or anything. He guessed he appreciated what they did enough. _He_ never needed their services, but he figured lots of people probably did, so, more power to them or whatever. It was a bit like the water department - nobody actually really thinks that hard about what they do there, but you’re glad you have clean water. The water department also didn’t make sexy pinup calendars to raise money.

If he had to pick favorites, he'd say June was a top contender. The guy was big, nice round pecs and a tight stomach, shaggy blonde hair pulled back. His blue eyes looked uncomfortably kind in comparison to the slutty pose he pulled every year, always a thumb tugging at the waistband of his baggy pants. It was basically a classic at this point, Mr. June always there, same look, same pose. Felix hoped he was better at his job than he was at doing pin-ups, but he secretly anticipated June 1st so he could flip the page over and see his washboard abs for 30 days.

Of course, June was a safe pick. Blonde, blue eyes, buff - it was basically out of a fairy tale. Girls swooned, guys wanted to be him. It was, as he determined, a safe choice.

But the one he _really_ liked was November. 

November would probably have you call him "Sir" in bed, but he was also up to whatever you were down for. November wasn't picky, with his brilliant red hair and chocolate eyes. November would kiss you softly, wrap his big arms around your neck, shoulders dusted with freckles, before threading his strong fingers through your hair. November would ask you, _beg you_ , to touch his dusky pink nipples, lick along the ridges of his rib cage, before pushing your head down -

Felix thought a lot about November. 

Before the calendar, November was just November. Now, it was "November, Sir."

* * *

Halloween hovered around the corner, and he had somehow been roped into hosting a party -- eugh, parties -- by his dearest, most loving, most _understanding_ friend, Annette. It was hard to say no when she brought over 90s action films and his favorite snacks, promising to actually clean up at the end of the night if he just let her use his apartment. Didn’t he know? His place was _bigger_ , it had a _better view_ , and oh, also, his liquor cabinet was _way_ better stocked. She wasn’t wrong, really. His apartment was spacious, and he had great taste in alcohol, but having multiple people in his house sent a shiver up his spine. Felix liked his friends, in _their own_ spaces. His space was holy, sacred, entirely his. 

But, again, it was hard to say no to Annette. Passing up on an opportunity to make her smile was nearly criminal. 

Decorating was going as well as decorating with someone like Annette could. Everything was perfectly organized, color-coded and arranged by size and shape, except also total chaos. Begrudgingly, he was roped into cutting out bat-shaped pieces of paper to be hung from the ceiling. The self-described visionary assured him this would be the coolest party yet, with spooky bats and ghosts dangling from the ceiling, casting strange shadows across the room. 

Except he didn’t have a ladder, and nobody was tall enough to reach the ceiling on his step stool, so they settled on taping the bats and ghosts onto his empty walls. Also, his bats looked more like blobs, and he hadn’t even started on the ghosts yet. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t do something really scary, like having everyone write down their most embarrassing memories. That idea was quickly shot down, apparently too _avante garde_ for such a simple house party. Hopefully, everyone would be too drunk to care. Truthfully, he couldn’t remember the last time he noticed any sort of decor at any party he went to.

He worked diligently in silence. Even if he thought the idea was stupid and ugly, he wasn’t going to let Annette down, or look like a pathetic fool to his friends. While he was cutting the 10th “bat”, a great crash came from the kitchen, the sounds of glass and metal falling and reverberating through the 4th floor walk-up. 

“Ugh! This stupid cat of yours! Out, you foul beast!”

 _Of course Annette is up to something stupid_. Felix unfolded himself from the floor, shuffling and sauntering across the house, overjoyed with another potential opportunity to tease his friend for her crazy antics. Last time she was here she accidentally microwaved a spoon, and the time before _that_ she made so much popcorn it overflowed, catching fire on the stove burner. Annette loved to fuck his kitchen up in new and exciting ways, and Felix liked to make her feel a _little_ embarrassed about it. 

The disaster was worse than he expected.

“What did you do to my kitchen?” he exploded, brow furrowed in anger. 

Annette was splayed out on the floor, looking more pathetic than necessary with her skirt hiked up and her legs splayed. Her hair fanned around her head, a pout on her face and a bottle of vodka in her fist.

“Your stupid cat did this!” she gestured with the bottle, sighing. 

It looked like the entire cabinet had decided to relocate to the floor - plastic plates and glass containers strewn across the yellowed linoleum. The counter must have decided the floor was better real estate also, with the entire dish rack upended, forks and spoons scattered. Orange and black streamers sagged pathetically from the top of the cabinets, the long end frayed and dangling.

Felix picked up a mug with a sad sigh - his favorite mug, broken. The handle came right off, and he rubbed at the rocky surface. How could he ever have tea again? 

“There’s no way my cat did this. Marvin would never break my favorite mug.”

Hn her hands and knees, Annette scooped up utensils, stacking plastic plates and shoving knives into cups. “Your stupid cat was eating the tinsel, and when I shooed him away, he ran across the counter and I fell.”

“Of course he did, Marvin loves tinsel.”

“Well,” leaning back, she blew her bangs out of her eyes, “his big fat body knocked all your stuff off! Oh, and I’m _fine_ , thanks for asking.”

“Is he ok?” The rattling of utensils stopped abruptly, quiet hanging over them like a heavy blanket.

“Is the _cat_ ok?! That’s what you’re asking me right now?”

“He has a sensitive constitution…” He picked up a bag of cat treats off the floor - victims to Annette’s mishap - and shook it. “Forget about the utensils, we have to make sure Marvin is ok.” 

“You’re absolutely ridiculous, Felix Fraldarius.”

* * *

What was scheduled to be a fun and easy night preparing for a rager of a party turned into 3 solid hours of searching for Felix’s fat bastard of a cat, Marvin. Marvin was a special boy, _Felix’s_ special boy. Everyone knew not to get between Felix and Marvin. Some say he just arrived one day, a gift from hell delicately placed on his 4th floor fire escape, angrier than the devil themself.

The true story is less interesting. A breakup will make anyone impulsive, and after Felix came back to his empty apartment, the remnants of his now-ex collecting in crevices like dust bunnies, he needed something, _anything_ to fill up the gaping wound that a 3 year relationship left behind. Once the sun rose up on a new day, a new, _single Felix_ day, he slipped on his winter coat and took the bus across town to the animal shelter to find a new, more agreeable companion. Preferably one that wouldn’t complain about stealing all the blankets.

It was past kitten season, and most of the cute, friendlier cats had been sent to their final homes as Christmas gifts. Marvin was in his own cage, alone from the other cats. His cage card explained that he was a “tender soul” looking for his “forever home”, not friendly with other cats and “most children”. He was living almost entirely off of scrambled eggs and cheese before being surrendered after his previous owner died, which explained his massive size. His next owner would have to put him on a diet plan, and he could be taken home as soon as that day. Violent anger burned in his green eyes, but his white, furry body conveyed the kind of relaxation that only a cat with no fucks to give could have.

About a year had passed since that day, Marvin settling in and becoming a little bit lighter and a little less angry, and Felix felt that maybe they understood each other on a level other people just couldn’t. Marvin wasn’t angry, he was _sensitive_. He was just scared. Imagine if your mom died and then you were shoved in a box and sent away, he argued with his friends as they fearfully sat across from him. Who could blame him; Felix also didn’t love other people and most children. He also loved scrambled eggs and cheese. They had a lot in common, much more than him and his disgusting ex.

For 3 hours they shook bags of treats with no response. They opened 4 cans of tuna, 2 cans of cat food, and Felix even scrambled up some eggs - twice. Annette crawled on the floor, dirt and dust collecting on the knees of her black leggings, making kissy sounds along the stove and refrigerator. 

“I think he’s been taken back to hell, Felix.”

“He’s not from hell, Annie. And we’re on the fourth floor, there’s no way that he just walked outside.”

“Yeah, ‘cus he didn’t walk, he _flew_ , he sunk down into the earth to return to his rightful home.”

Felix’s scowl was so severe that Annette swore the room dropped 10 degrees. 

A soft meow broke the silence, and they both startled, eggs sliding off the plate in Felix’s hand as he jumped. Annette’s eyes widened, and she covered a giggle that was threatening to break free. Felix looked so much like a cat himself, spine straight as he listened for more cries.

_Meow!_

It was coming from below them, muffled. The sound was faint, easy to miss if they weren’t quiet. 

“ _He’s in the floor!_ ” her voice was a harsh whisper.

They both dropped, ass up with their ears on the ground, fruitlessly tracking Marvin’s high pitched cries.

“I _told_ you he could teleport, but _no_ , you didn’t believe me!” 

“Shut up, Annie, and just listen.” His face was serious, concentrating. He crushed the bag of treats in his hand, palms sweaty against the crinkly plastic. He had to save Marvin, even if he _did_ turn into the devil and teleport between walls. He couldn’t abandon a living thing, even if it was the son of Satan. Felix’s heart was pounding in his throat, panic evident in the shake of his hands - what if he found a hole that no human could get to? What if he fell down the floor vent? Felix was always afraid of that thing, it was so loose and the hole was so --

_The floor vent!_

He scrambled over on his hands and knees, covered in dust and bits of forgotten floor food. The vent was under the window - who put heating vents under the window? - normally blasting hot air. An old, rusted metal grate usually covered the vent. Usually. It was suspiciously pushed aside, the vent itself open for anything to just _fall in_ -

“Annie, he’s in the floor vent.”  
“ _What_? Are you for real, Felix?” she crawled up next to him, peering into the darkness. “He’s too fat to fit in there.”  
“No, cat’s can collapse their bones so they can fit into anything.” Annette’s eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Felix, that’s the dumbest thing I have ever heard.” 

_Meow!_

The cry was louder now, echoing through the metal ducts and amplified in the tunnel system. He gripped Annette’s shoulder, panicked.

“Annie, get him out! He overheats easily.”

“Why do I have to get him?”

“You’re smaller than me.”

They both peered down in the eerie darkness. Impulsively, before Felix could react, Annette upended a can of tuna into the vent. It tumbled down before disappearing, a muted “splat” breaking the silence. 

“ _Oh shit._ ”

“What the fuck, Annette?”

“I guess I just figured,” she sniffled, oh no. Do not start crying. Felix couldn’t handle Annette crying, “he might come closer if there was tuna?”

“You poisoned my house!”

His landlord was going to murder him. Security deposit, gone. Future rental reference? Say goodbye to that. And he was going to have to live the entire winter with the smell of rotting tuna wafting through his entire kitchen. 

He sat up, falling back to land flat on his butt with a frustrated growl, pulling his hair out of it’s ponytail and sighing. Today fucking sucked, and he never wanted to have a stupid party in the first place. Deep breaths, he reminded himself. His cat was still alive, just stuck, and he wasn’t alone for once in his life, even if he was with the most ditzy person he’s ever met. Annette was smart, and clever, just clumsy. She could definitely sort this out.

“You fix this.” He dug his cellphone out of his pocket, thrusting it into Annette’s face.

“How do you propose I do that?” A hint of annoyance tinged her speech, and Felix ignored it. She had no right to be annoyed after what she did.

“Call 9-1-1.”

“I’m not calling 9-1-1 because of your cat, Felix. People are dying out there, they aren’t going to save your dumb cat.”

“He’s not dumb.”

Pushing herself up off the floor, she took his phone, dusting her skirt and leggings off. “Fine, maybe the fire department can help. Do they still get cats down from trees?”

As Annette walked off to call the non-emergency line, Felix lied back down, cheek pressed against the linoleum as his heart pounded in his chest. Marvin’s cries were still strong and frantic, and Felix felt his heart break. He _promised_ to keep him safe, he even had a paper that he signed, full name and all, the day of his adoption. Hopefully the fire department could get him, and he’d be unharmed, and he wouldn’t have to find a new friend after just getting used to this one…

Felix barely heard Annette come back into the room, sitting herself down beside his prone body to run a soothing hand down his spine. Under normal circumstances he’d balk, shrug her hand off of him, grumble at her patronizing attitude, but, he assumed, her touch was just as important to her as it was for him.

“They’re on their way, Felix.” He grumbled an incomprehensible response, folding his arms to rest his head on them. “I’m sorry about tonight. I’m sure Marvin will be ok.”

* * *

Having strangers in your house was always so discomforting, like someone took your furniture and moved it on step to the side. Felix could hear them entering the downstairs foyer, expected them by the sounds of their heavy boots on the old wooden stairs. The knock on his door was solid and authoritative, and he let the three men in with a worried grimace.

With everyone crowded in, the kitchen was stifling. All three firemen were taller than Felix, and definitely taller than Annette. They looked good enough; solid, handsome men in stained fire company t-shirts and heavy wool pants. He went through the whole story, eyes cast down on their muddy, dusty shoes (was that _ash_?). The great fall, the dramatic escape, the tragic tumble and subsequent capture of Marvin, the beast. Their eyes were focused on him, attentive, and it made him feel like a child again, small and under pressure. 

They turned towards each other to discuss logistics, and Felix is so focused on just observing them he doesn't notice Annette slide up next to him until her hand grabs the crook of his elbow.

"Aren't you lucky, three hot guys all here to save your poor, helpless cat?" She whispered in his ear, quiet enough that hopefully nobody else heard.

Grumbling, he gently shoved her back. It wasn't the time now to be picking up guys, and he wasn’t enough of a creep to hit on _necessary members of the community_ or whatever they were. Nonetheless, he was loathe to admit that they did look familiar, but he couldn't place where he saw them before. He guessed that every good looking guy got put in the same storage place in his brain, and perhaps he was just confusing them with another, generic looking guy he saw around the city.

Still, he scanned them calculatingly as they talked. The man with the bluish hair seemed most agitated, fidgeting with his radio and shifting side-to-side. Between them was an exceptionally tall man, white hair pulled back, with a serious look on his face. At least one of them was taking this seriously, since their lives were on the line if Marvin came back to him in pieces. The last guy was definitely what Annette would call “his type” - a back so broad you could land planes on it, messy red hair begging to be pulled, a casual smirk that either deserved to be kissed or punched off his face -

“This looks like it’ll be a while, Mr. Fraldarius. We have to call in HVAC and contact your landlord.” The middle guy with the white hair was explaining, his voice calm and monotone. “We’ll need the kitchen clear, why don’t you and your friend take a seat?”

“Don’t worry about us, _Sir_!” 

“But Marvin --,” Before Felix could finish, Annette was steering him away to the living room.

He felt helpless, and he hated feeling helpless. He knew his way around a hammer, and could probably figure out a circular saw if they wanted to tear up the floor. Anxious anger tugged at his stomach as he was led away like a delicate maiden. If there was one thing he could do, he should be able to protect the ones he loved, right? Right?

Annette pushed him down on the couch, thrusting the bottle of vodka in his face.

“You look awful.” 

He frowned up at her, snatching the bottle and taking a big, disgusting swig. The weight of her body as she fell down next to him caused the couch to shift, and he toppled over, leaning his head on her shoulder. She felt so warm, her hair soft against his cheek and smelling like her fancy shampoo.

They passed the bottle back and forth, speechless, the weight of the evening weighing heavy. He was going to either drink until the bottle was empty, or Marvin was safe. Whatever came first.

Annette was a good friend - a _great_ friend, even if she was the reason why his only true love was trapped beneath the floorboards like some sick Edgar Allan Poe story. And she wasn’t even wrong about the three incredibly handsome men in his apartment, working hard to save a _poor, defenseless_ animal. Seiros, that was hot. Annette was owed a thank you, If it wasn’t for her he wouldn’t have such an amazing opportunity, and he was feeling pretty lonely lately. The alcohol must be getting to him, he mused, if he was waxing poetic about his best friend fucking up his apartment so he could gawk.

He yawned wide, stretching and elbowing a sleepy Annette. He’d just close his eyes for a moment, just a second. His whole body felt fuzzy and warm way too quickly - they both had skipped dinner and he couldn’t remember the last time he ate. Downing straight alcohol was a terrible idea, one you only do with your best friend. Felix wanted to be there when Marvin was rescued, to catch him in his open arms like a frantic lover, or a newborn baby, or…

He drifted off, Annette already snoring quietly besides him.

* * *

The hand of God was on his shoulder, warm and big and welcoming, just a gentle jostle like a breeze. 

He knew he fell asleep, but he didn’t know he _died_. It probably wasn’t good to pass that bottle of alcohol around on an empty stomach, but he was young, he wasn’t ready to die just yet. But if God’s hand was this warm, and did he mention how big it was? Dying didn’t seem so bad.

A smaller pair of hands grabbed his shoulders, and he frowned in his sleep. 

“Felix, you brat, wake up already!” Annette’s voice was shrill, “They have him!”

Felix scrubbed at his eyes like a child. His neck was stiff and his mouth felt dry, a headache on the horizon. “What time is it?”

A voice he didn’t recognize responded - light and gentle, “It’s about 2:45 in the morning, Sir.”

 _2:45_? They must have been working all night to get Marvin, and Felix had no idea how he slept through all of it. 

Marvin in all his roundness was placed on his lap, where he immediately clung to Felix’s shirt. His eyes were like saucers, and his fur was coated in ancient dust. He seemed unharmed, just scared, but a vet visit would certainly be in order. Felix wrapped his arms around him, offering a gentle hug as an apology. 

When Felix looked up, though, he was greeted with the second best gift of the night.

The man who handed him Marvin was none other than “redhead-and-freckles”, and Felix felt his heart skip a beat. Only in his dreams did he imagine a tall, handsome man like this one saving his poor defenseless cat from danger. Did he save other animals, too? That was too much to think about.

Without pretense, Felix un-velcro’d Marvin and thrust him at the other man.

“Hold him.”

“What? I think he wants you to hold him.”

“No, I need you to hold him.” 

Uncertainly, he reached out, wincing when Marvin clawed up his arms to grab desperately at his shoulders. All three of them stared at each other for a moment - Felix with an intense look of scrutiny, Annie with her clueless smile, and Mr. Fireman, a goofy grin plastered across his face as he softly pet Marvin’s back.

This was the only time Felix was going to have a hot fireman hold his cat, and he was going to remember it. He was going to burn it into his brain so hard he’d be on his deathbed and he was going to still fantasize about it. 

“Felix,” her voice was soft, but it still slapped him out of his reverie, “I think Marvin would like to be back with you…” Marvin was transferred back to his rightful owner, white hair floating in the air between them. _Like stardust._

Mr. Fireman was smirking at him like he _knew_ what Felix was doing, knew all the dirty thoughts that Felix kept discreetly locked away. It was good Annette was totally clueless with guys. He would absolutely melt if anyone else knew what went on his head all day. 

“Well, you should be all set Mr. Fraldarius -”

“Felix”

His smile widened, a bit of teeth showing now. Was it bashfulness on his face?

“Right, Felix. You should be all set. HVAC came so we didn’t have to cut your floor up, and they installed a new grate so your friend Marvin here shouldn’t get stuck again,” a wink to punctuate his sentence, “Do you have any other questions before we pack up and go?”

“Yes. What’s your name?” He blinked at Felix before breaking out into the sweetest, softed laughter Felix had the pleasure of hearing.

“Aren’t you cute. It’s Gautier. Sylvain Gautier, if I’m being naughty.” Annette gasped behind him, trying to cover up her laughter.

“Are you like this with everyone you meet on the job?” Felix knew he was sending mixed signals, but he couldn’t help himself. This was...fun. It was fun.

“Nope, only you,” Sylvain retorted before turning on his heels to collect his things.

* * *

Entering the kitchen was like wading into uncharted territory. There was always something strange about coming back to a familiar space after people you didn’t know occupied it, a prickly sense of something missing building in Felix’s fingers. And while the kitchen looked the same, save for some dust on the floor, it smelled different, it _felt_ different, like the air had been taken out and replaced.

But life continued on, and Marvin cried for his food, and the faint smell of tuna still persisted. 

They worked silently, exhausted and still slightly drunk, to sweep up the dirt and put dishes back in their rightful space. Annette tore the offending tinsel down, shoving it deep in the trash can. 

“That guy was really weird, don’t you think? Who hits on people you’re saving? What if this was a fire, do you think he’d just, just...wrap his arms around you and woo you as your house burned down?” Annette was rambling, and Felix prayed for silence.

Being saved by Sylvain and whisked away as his house turned to dust sounded appealing, in a cheap airport novel kind of way. 

“He was kind of...,” his voice dropped, shy, “cute.”

“Oh, Felix, you _rat_ , of course you were into him!” She jumped up, startling Marvin and Felix with her excitement. “I called it, I _so_ called it!”

He was too grumpy for this, turning around and furiously scrubbing at a questionably clean dish.

“I bet he’s on that dumb calendar you buy every year. He’s way too hot for the fire department to pass _that_ up.”

 _The calendar_. He couldn’t believe he left it in the kitchen when they were all there. What if one of them saw it? He flushed, hunching his shoulders over the sink. What an idiot he was. If they sold the dumb calendars in the first place, they couldn’t be surprised when they found it in people’s houses. 

“I haven’t seen him. Yet. This year. I don’t know, ok?” Sylvain did look familiar, though, from the start. It was too late to figure this out at all. Behind him, he heard magnets scraping across the refrigerator, the whip of glossy paper. 

“Why don’t we check? It’s not cheating if you look ahead, right? I mean, it’s the same guys every year… _oh my god, Felix!_ ” He turned abruptly, water dripping across the counter, splattering Marvin who was hovering at his feet for food. 

“What?! Don’t scare me!”

“ _Look!_ ” she screeched.

The calendar was turned to November, only 5 days from today, a familiar seductive grin and mop of red hair splayed across the paper.

Across the calendar was a note, rendering the page effectively useless.

_Sylvain J. Gautier  
Text me :)  
857-662-7025  
_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He bit down, nibbling on some dry skin flaking off his lip. Felix had to admit he was curious. He wasn’t secretive or ominous, he didn’t lure him in with doublespeak, or play hard to get, but he couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that there was more depth to him than he put out, something more than a pretty face and an amazing body. 
> 
> Felix wouldn’t ever call himself a people person, and if he told anyone he was interested or _intrigued_ by someone, they’d think he had a head injury. But he had time, and was alone, and the winters were just so long and so cold here…"

It was easier to set up a date than Felix predicted. He was expecting the normal back and forth, the “well I don’t know, what do YOU want to do?” The waiting, the ghosting, the message at 2am a week later saying, “Yeah, coffee ok.” Incoherent garbage. A waste of his time. 

It’s not that Sylvain looked stupid or careless. Felix just assumed anyone that big and handsome probably expected people to wait on them hand and foot. 

On the contrary, Sylvain was coherent. _Polite_. A bit cheeky, like he knew how to play the game, but easy to make plans with. In fact, he mostly took control of the conversation, a relief to Felix, who wasn’t always the most easy person to converse with. Sylvain was the one to recommend the small, intimate cafe near the firestation, and Felix was unable to find a reason not to say yes. It was like Sylvain was a master at setting up dates - “small, intimate, quiet” was the ideal spot. 

As Felix worked on his hair in the bathroom mirror, he heard his phone vibrate on the counter. Their date was in an hour and Felix had to account for commute time. He was already running a bit behind, his shower taking longer than he expected as he felt the anxious and unfamiliar energy of a _first date_ tingle in his fingers and toes. 

The phone vibrated again, and he scowled at it. Annette had been so pushy since he told her he set up a date with “Mr. Fireman,” as if she thought she was going to get in on the action. He couldn’t deal with it right now. The last thing he needed was twenty questions about his fashion choices and what he planned to do “after”. 

As he stalked out of the bathroom, Marvin weaved in and out between his legs, crying for attention. He was doing well since his adventure, hale and hearty, fat and happy. 

He took inventory of himself in the hallway mirror, trying to ground himself to calm his frayed nerves. His hair looked decent, perfectly out of place. His black sweater was relatively hairless, along with his black denim jacket. There was no hope for his pants, though; Marvin had coated the bottoms in a dusting of white cat hair, and Felix didn’t have time to change. Frowning at himself, he adjusted his messenger bag, fiddling at the buttons and snaps.

Felix just couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more like a job interview than a date. Never in his life did he try so hard to make a decent first impression on _anyone_. He was perfectly content with people taking or leaving what he put on the table, but for some reason, this time was different. There was no way it was just because Sylvain was hot. Felix had fucked plenty of hot guys and looked way worse than he did now.

He caught himself - he wasn’t _fucking_ anyone. Not tonight, unfortunately. It was a date, a coffee date that he was running late for if he didn’t haul his ass out _right now_.

The trembling in his hands was imperceptible as he locked the door behind him.

* * *

There was no way that anyone had ever had a date that started as such a failure.

When he exited his apartment, feet landing solidly on city pavement, the air felt heavy with an oncoming fall rain. Fortunately, his walk to the train station was quick, the gloomy clouds taunting him. 

The train came quickly, and he dashed onto an empty train car without a second thought. As he sat down in the faded upholstered seat, he realized quickly why it had been so unoccupied in the first place. It wasn’t a divine blessing to make his day better - the car was _hot_ , super hot. Unbearably hot. Something must have been wrong with the heating, and as usual, nobody cared to fix it. And to add insult to injury, the entire car smelled like hot piss. 

A man snoozed on the opposite end, oblivious. Felix growled, frustrated, before giving in and taking out his phone. The ride was quick, he’d just deal with it. A little sweat never hurt anyone. He tinkered on some mobile games, settling on _Fire Emblem Heroes_ to try to quell some of his anxious energy. 

Except that by the second stop, he felt the train lurch before jolting to a stop in the middle of the tunnel. The familiar crackling of the intercom came on, before the conductor screamed into the microphone.

“We’ll be on standby, delays due to mechanical problems.”

He stared up at the microphone with his mouth slightly open in shocked disbelief, a bead of sweat dripping down his neck. Great. Fantastic. He could feel his hair frizz up like hackles on a cat as he came to the realization he was stuck on this godforsaken oven of a train, and he was going to be _horribly_ late to his date. 

He took out his phone, unlocking it with a pout.  
 _  
I’m going to be late, train delays.  
FF 2:36_

_Maybe 10-15 minutes.  
FF 2:36_

_Take too long getting ready?  
SG 2:38_

_You look hot just the way you are, Felix. No need to try so hard.  
SG 2:39  
_

  
Felix’s heart skipped a beat at that. _Hot just the way he was_. There was no logical reason why he was so enamored with this guy, none whatsoever. He shook the feeling off, ignoring the compliment. 

_Mechanical problems. Red line sucks.  
FF 2:40_

_Be there soon.  
FF 2:40  
_  
Slumping down into the seat, he let himself succumb to the reality of the situation. He thumbed through his phone, hoping to find something to entertain him with the low service. The games just weren’t cutting it anymore.

It occurred to him he didn’t even look Sylvain up on his social media before agreeing to the date. He could hear Annette chastise him in his ear, _stalking is an essential part of any first date!_ Call him old fashioned, but he just assumed you went over all of that stuff, you know, _during the date_. Of course she’d prepare for a date like a test. 

At this point, it was questionable if the date was going to even happen, so he flipped open Facebook and typed in “Sylvain Gautier”. Very few results showed up - Felix thought the name was unusual, but not _that_ unusual. Sylvain’s picture was unmistakable, though, with his fiery red hair and shit-eating smirk. He felt his stomach drop and chalked it up to hunger, not the growing infatuation for someone he barely even met.

His Facebook page was mostly locked behind privacy settings, but it did list where he grew up - somewhere nearby and _nice_ \- and a few old photos. There was a rave review for an exhibit that was at the art museum a few years back for an artist Felix had never heard of, and he gave a one star rating to some dive bar everyone knew not to go to. His profile picture was nothing special, but it still managed to send sparks of jealousy through Felix’s heart. Sylvain was shirtless, certainly nothing Felix hadn’t seen before on account of the calendar, swim trunks hung low on his hips, much like his pants in the fated photograph. Two beautiful women flanked him, his arms wrapped around their shoulders, doublefisting some local IPA that probably tasted like vomit. They looked happy, their smiles posed but genuine, the blue sky contrasting against his bright red hair. 

Felix would look way better up against the side of Sylvain Gautier than any of those women. He couldn’t tell you why, but he knew it for a fact.

That was the only picture of him with other people _like that_. The rest of the photos were standard fare: Sylvain sitting on the back bumper of a firetruck, fiddling with something. Grinning salaciously at the cameraperson across a pub table. A poorly-taken selfie in front of some avant garde sculpture. He looked unrealistically good in all of them, so confident and casual in his movement. 

He closed the app, placing his phone in his lap and slouching down to lean his head back in the seat. His shirt was sticking to him and he was praying that he wasn’t soaking anything through with sweat. 

His search wasn’t as fruitful as he hoped. It was nice to see pictures of Sylvain in “action”, but it wasn’t any different from staring at him for an entire month on his refrigerator. He figured he liked art, and work, but other than that he was left fantasizing. What would Sylvain’s hand feel on his body? Would his voice be soft or demanding as he whispered in his ear? Would Marvin accept him, crawl onto his chest before drifting off to nap? Felix felt something akin to warmth build in his chest, a soft thaw that felt like maybe he had experienced it in another life. Perhaps he was coming down with a cold...

The train lurched forward, jostling him sideways in the seat. He checked his phone - 3:10. Great, just great.

* * *

It was drizzling when he sprinted out of the station, a misty kind of rain that silently soaked through your clothes and avoided your umbrella. Steeling himself, he pushed forward, skate sneakers slipping on the slick cobblestones. Luckily, the cafe wasn’t far from the train, so he endured, keeping his eye on the prize.

The door to the cafe jingled as he pulled it open, soft music drifting out behind him. The place was relatively empty, so it wasn’t difficult to find Sylvain hunched over a table in the corner. He had a book out - _a book_ , and an empty cup of coffee. 

Felix stood in place for a moment, blocking the door and collecting his thoughts. He had that indescribable feeling that this was a moment to be photographed, kept inside of him close to his heart, like he was on the precipice of something life changing. He wasn’t _just_ having coffee with some hot fireman who held his cat so sweetly, this was something big, something _new_. As his heart beat heavily in his chest, his foot slipped forward, squeaking against the linoleum tile.

Sylvain looked up, his face contorted into a serious frown, until his eyes met Felix’s. 

If Felix believed in those corny romance tropes Annette was always harping about, he’d say that Sylvain’s smile cleared the rain. His eyes were bright, excited, and he would make sure to tell Annette that it felt like nothing in the world existed between them in that fleeting moment. It was like every stupid pop song about falling in love for the first time made perfect sense. If his life was a cartoon, he’d float over with hearts in his eyes, flower petals dripping across the television screen.

What he actually did was slip and slide over to the table, drop his wet bag on the floor, and then drop _himself_ into the chair before pushing his bangs out of his face.

Sylvain laughed, genuine, deep. _Charming_. Felix wanted to bottle it like an energy drink. 

“You made it! And as handsome as ever, I see.”

Felix looked around. Handsome? He looked like he just ran ten miles, his sweater damp and his hair a puffy, frizzy mess. There was no way this guy was for real.

“Wait, you mean me?”

Sylvain was dog-earing his book, and even _that_ was charming. How could some guy who went into burning buildings for a living and pose sexy for calendars be so… _cute?_

“I don’t see anyone else in front of me,” he smirked as he fumbled with his empty mug.

Felix scratched his forehead. What were you supposed to talk about on dates again? It had been so long, and making conversation wasn’t his strong suit. Before he could answer, Sylvain took initiative, leaning across the table as Felix leaned back. 

“How’s your cat since his grand adventure?”

He pitched his eyebrows down, pouting. “Aren’t there laws against you talking about this kind of stuff in public or something.”

Sylvain snickered and Felix felt like he must be doing something right.

“There’s no privacy laws, Felix, and it’s not like you weren’t _there_ , or did you forget everything once I showed up?” 

“Sure. Right. Yeah.” So many useless words. “He’s fine.”

“Oh, you’re the silent type. Short, concise, I get it.” Felix wasn’t sure what there was to get, but he watched Sylvain talk, cautiously. “When was the last time you went on a date, Felix?”

His name slipped over Sylvain’s lips and Felix felt his mouth go dry. 

“I, well. It was -,” the chiming of a cell phone cut him off, and he clamped his mouth shut as Sylvain dug his phone out of his pocket, frowning at the number. Felix examined his fingernails like they might fall off if he stopped looking at them, picking at a stray cuticle, a nasty anxious habit. 

“Fuck, this is the worst.” He turned to Felix and looked at him like he was the only person in his entire world. Felix was learning quickly this was something he did, looked you right in the eyes like he was listening to every word you said. “I gotta go, the station is paging me. Probably some drunk kids or something.”

Oh. It couldn’t have been more than 10 minutes since he sat down and the date was already ending. 

“Umm…,” he must have looked pathetic, since Sylvain stopped packing his things up in his bag to give him a sad smile.

“I’ll text you later, promise, ok?” Felix wasn’t sure if Sylvain kept his promises, but he had nothing to lose, so he believed him. 

“Umm, ok.”

The brush of a hand coasted off his shoulder, goosebumps forming over his arms, as Sylvain rushed out without looking back. Felix stared at the empty mug, the chiming of the door bells ringing distantly behind him. How weird would it be if he lifted it up, cradled the mug in his hands? Would the shop notice if he slipped the mug into his bag, a souvenir for the worst, quickest, and hottest date he’s ever had? Impulsively, he reached out and let his fingers trail over the side of the cup, cool under his touch. The date had gone by so fast Felix couldn’t tell if this was some sort of sick fantasy his _id_ created.

Sighing, he dropped his hands to his lap. The rain had picked up, pinging against the cafe window, a personal insult. If Felix Fraldarius was anything, he was resilient, so he ordered a cup of tea and hunkered down, waiting for the rain to stop.

* * *

Felix had rushed home from work that night, trying to make it home before the last vestiges of light disappeared. The air was crisp with the oncoming threat of winter, his heat turned on for the first time this season (with no lasting tuna smell). It was quiet in his building, the kind of silence that blankets any New England city during the colder seasons, but he appreciated it all the same. The cold felt good, even if his windows were drafty, and less people outside meant less people to bother him.

His phone vibrating had Felix jumping in his chair and Marvin scurrying off of his lap. 

He glanced sideways, frustrated at the interruption. He wasn’t _super_ invested in scrolling endlessly through Reddit on his laptop, but he wasn’t in the mood to be bothered. Work was shit, commute home - also shit. 

Reluctantly, he checked his texts, surprised to see the message that showed up across his screen.  
 __

_  
You free this weekend?  
SG 5:45  
_

After radio silence for a week, Felix had considered the date done, the relationship closed. He did what he did best in these scenarios and erased the entire concept of Sylvain Gautier from his mind. It wasn’t worth crying over spilled milk, or failed dates, and he had to move on with his life. It was all a game to him, anyways, simple transactions of give and take that added up to make a whole relationship, and to Felix, this just didn’t fill the EXP bar.

So, again, he forgot about it, but not before he delicately moved the sexy calendar to the side of his fridge, just slightly out of view.

Chewing his lip, his fingers hovered over the keyboard. Was it even worth responding? Sylvain definitely had seemed genuine, despite Felix’s lackluster appearance and stunted conversation. He did promise, too, and Felix had told himself he had nothing to lose.  
 _  
Why?  
FF 5:56_

_I’m going to make the date up to you  
SG 5:57_

_If you want, of course  
SG 5:58_

Who did this guy think he was? He forgot about Sylvain the moment he walked out the door. Of course he wanted to see him again.   
_  
What time. Where.  
FF 5:58_

_Saturday. 3:30. The station.  
SG 6:00_

_Can you do it?  
SG 6:01  
_

  
He bit down, nibbling on some dry skin flaking off his lip. Felix had to admit he was curious. He wasn’t secretive or ominous, he didn’t lure him in with doublespeak, or play hard to get, but he couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that there was more depth to him than he put out, something more than a pretty face and an amazing body. 

Felix wouldn’t ever call himself a people person, and if he told anyone he was interested or _intrigued_ by someone, they’d think he had a head injury. But he had time, and was alone, and the winters were just so long and so cold here…

_Sure. I don’t like surprises, you know.  
FF 6:09_

_Rad! Can’t wait to see you again!  
SG 6:10_


End file.
